


Fever Talk

by PlacesBetween



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Cisco and his feelings, Fluff, Harry Being Harry, M/M, set during s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 20:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10257284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlacesBetween/pseuds/PlacesBetween
Summary: Harry has the flu. Cisco takes care of him.Set at an unspecified time before 2x13.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly little fic I wrote while sick to make myself feel better.
> 
> Completely ignores Harry's betrayal of Barry in the name of fluff.

One thing nobody tells you when you sign up to work for a superhero, is that the hours are awful. Cisco isn't one for complaining, but sometimes, just on principle, he sleeps in. Even if it means he'll get hell for it from Harry. Cisco figures he's doing Harry a favor, providing him with an easy reason to take a jab at him. Besides, Cisco kind of likes their arguments; not that he'd ever tell Harry that. 

On this morning though, Harry is nowhere to be found. Cisco's workshop is empty; showing no signs anyone had disturbed it since Cisco left it the night before. Caitlin and Barry are alone in The Cortex, looking relaxed, as they peruse over the data of the last metahuman Barry defeated. 

“So, last night when I got home, I was thinking about the way this meta-”

“Spending your time off thinking about work?” Cisco interrupts Barry, with a snort. “We really, really need to get you a life.” Cisco hops up on the table, swinging his legs as he takes a big slurp from his straw. 

“Says the guy who once spent every night here for two weeks trying to turn a Roomba into a service robot.”

“Oh, we're going there? I'll have you know Roomba Rosie was fully functioning. She organized my tools _and_ cleaned the floor flawlessly.”

“Remind me what happened to her again? I seem to recall there was an explosion.” Barry sarcastically taps his finger on his chin, as if trying to remember. 

“Okay, so maybe asking her to get me coffee was a step too far. Liquid and robots do not mix.”

“Boys. Focus,” Caitlin says with a sigh. “We still have to figure out how this metahuman was able to get around our sensors.”

“Speaking of disappearing acts; have any of you seen Harry this morning?” Cisco looks around again, half expecting Harry to magically appear at the sound of his name. 

Caitlin shakes her head. “No, he hasn't been up here. But that isn't-”

“Weird. I'm gonna go check on him.” 

Cisco hops down, ignoring Caitlin's cries about work that needs to be done, and heads down to the only other place Harry tends to haunt; his bedroom. At least Harry insists it's a bedroom, when really it's just an old office with two cots in it. Cisco used to feel bad about it, with how difficult it is for Harry to leave S.T.A.R. Labs, having the face of a murderer and all, but now he knows Harry well enough to realize that this particular misery is a self inflicted one. Even if he could leave, Harry would likely choose the seediest motel possible, just to make the point that he isn't enjoying himself while his daughter is locked up somewhere. 

Cisco crinkles his nose at the feeling of fondness that rises up in him when he thinks about this. Only he would end up with a ridiculous crush on a guy who thinks torturing himself is a valid way of showing he cares.

When he gets to Harry's room, the first thing that strikes him is the trail of tissues leading from the garbage can to Harry's bed where he clearly tried and failed to throw them from. The lump under the blankets, which Cisco is going to assume is Harry, is deviating between rakish coughs and irritated groans.

“Harry?” Cisco creeps closer, poking the lump. “Harry man, you okay?”

“What do you want, Cisco?” Harry throws back the blanket enough that he can squint up at him. He isn't wearing his glasses, and his nose looks puffy and red. 

“Whoa, you're really sick. I'll go get Caitlin.”

Harry's hand springs out, grabbing Cisco's arm to stop him. “Do not get Caitlin. I don't need a doctor.”

“No offense Harry, but I mean, look at you. You definitely need a doctor,” Cisco insists, worry rising up in him when Harry's grip goes slack.

“I don't need a doctor to tell me when I have the flu. I just need rest. I'll be fine.”

Cisco sighs, sitting down on the cot across from Harry. “You know the minute I tell them you're sick, Caitlin will be down here.”

“Simple answer then; don't tell them I'm sick,” Harry says, in between sneezes.

Cisco throws his hands up in exasperation.“What am I supposed to tell them then? You went on vacation?”

“Tell them I'm taking a break,” Harry says, before going back under his blankets.

“A break from finding your daughter. Totally believable.” Cisco rolls his eyes, but the sound of Harry letting out another series of pathetic coughs has him agreeing.

Before he leaves, Cisco picks up the gross trail of tissues, washes his hands, and leaves a glass of water on Harry's bedside. Harry may not want any help, but that doesn't mean Cisco has to listen to him.

____

Cisco has gotten used to working alone. Ever since the accelerator explosion, silence in S.T.A.R. Labs had been pretty much the norm. It was only a week after the incident that Harrison – no Eobard, Cisco reminds himself – had given Cisco the workshop, where he could wile away the hours, deep in his own projects without anyone to bother him. Sure, it took some getting used to, but after a while, Cisco reveled in being able to turn up his music as loud as he wanted, and organize things exactly to his liking. 

Then, Barry came. And a year after that, Harry. Harry was the real change. Without asking, he took his place in Cisco's workshop and in Cisco's life. Somewhere along the way, Cisco had not only gotten used to it, but had come to enjoy it. Having someone to turn to with his ideas, and even someone to malign his music, was now a comfortable norm for him.

This, the change in work conditions he had gotten used to, is why he can't seem to focus on anything today, Cisco concludes. Not the worry that Harry is downstairs being sick all over the place with no one to watch after him. If that were true, then his little crush would be much worse than Cisco realized; something he refuses to entertain. 

Cisco runs his hands through his hair in frustration, and decides that he's about due for a break. Maybe not a well deserved break, considering he came in late and has gotten nothing done, but a break all the same. 

If he decides to use that break to make Harry soup, well, that's just because he's a good guy; not because all he has been able to think about is Harry. Satisfied with the justification, he makes his way back to Harry's room.

“Harry,” he calls out, elongating his name in just the way Harry hates. 

Harry makes a grunting noise in acknowledgment. He's propped up in his bed this time, tablet in hand. He doesn't look any better, but Cisco still feels a sense of relief at seeing him slightly more conscious than he was earlier. 

“I brought soup. Chicken noodle. Figured matter as well go with the cliché.” He hands over the bowl, and Harry takes it giving him a suspicious look.

“You made me soup?”

“Well, made might by an exaggeration. More like, opened the can and heated it.” Cisco clasps his hands behind his back, cursing himself for feeling so nervous under Harry's gaze. 

“Thanks, I guess,” Harry mumbles, adjusting his glasses. 

“You guess?” Cisco snorts, nervousness giving way to that all too familiar annoyance that tends to show up whenever Harry's around. “See if I do something nice for you again.”

“No, it's not – I'm just surprised,” Harry finishes softly. He picks up the plastic spoon, taking a careful sip of the broth, before going in for more. 

“It wasn't anything,” Cisco shrugs nonchalantly, but he can't quite keep the pleased tone out of his voice at the sight of Harry actually eating what he brought him. 

“I spend half of my time insulting you, and you make me soup.”

Cisco shrugs, suddenly feeling shy. “Everyone deserves someone to take care of them when they're sick.”

Harry stops eating eating, spoon half-way to his mouth, and gives Cisco a searching look. Cisco doesn't know what it is he's looking for, but whatever it is, he seems to find it. His chapped lips turn up into that very slight smile of his, that in Harry terms, might as well be a full out grin. Cisco's breath catches at the sight of it.

He watches on as Harry finishes his soup. By the final bite, his eyelids are practically drooping. Cisco gently takes away the bowl and Harry's tablet, pushing up his covers. 

Cisco stays until Harry falls asleep.

____

Later that night, Cisco leaves his workshop having actually finally gotten something done, and sees the kitchen light on. At first, he thinks maybe himself or Caitlin accidentally left it on, given the late hour, but then he sees Harry inside, standing unsteadily at the sink, tea kettle in hand.

Cisco rushes forward, worry bubbling up inside him. “Jesus, Harry. Sit down before you fall down. I got it.”

“I'm not a baby. I can make my own tea.”

“Why do you have to be so difficult?” Cisco sighs, guiding Harry into a chair, and placing the kettle on the stove to heat.

Cisco leans against the counter, arms crossed, while Harry rests his head against his hands at the table. His breathing is loud and ragged, in that awful way it always is when your nose is stuffed. Cisco wordlessly hands him a box of tissues, and goes back to his post by the stove to wait for the water to boil.

“Jessie is usually the one who helps when I'm sick,” Harry says, just as the kettle begins to whistle.

“You must really miss her,” Cisco reponds softly. He turns his back to Harry, busying himself with filling cups for them both. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't want Harry to see the look of sympathy on his face. With anyone else, he thinks they might appreciate it, but with Harry, that kind of attention has always made him turn bitter. As if he didn't think he deserved it. 

Harry doesn't answer him, nor does he look up when Cisco places the tea in front of him. At the very least, he does reach out, cradling the warmth between his hands.

“What happened to her mom?” Cisco asks, his curiosity getting the better of him. “I mean, you never talk about her.” After a beat, Cisco adds, “It's cool if you don't want to answer.”

Harry takes a sip of his tea, eyeing Cisco through the steam. “She died. It was a long time ago.” 

“I'm sorry,” Cisco says, wishing he could say something more; something worthy of the kind of pain that laces Harry's words. 

Harry, for his part, accepts the words for what they are with a simple nod. They drink, only the sound of Harry's sniffles breaking up the silence. Somehow, without it being said, Cisco knows the steady presence of someone nearby is as much of a comfort to Harry as it is to himself.

____

The next morning, Cisco goes down to Harry's room to bring him toast, but finds it suspiciously empty. He grumbles all the way back up to his workshop where he, rightly, knows he will find Harry.

“What do you think you're doing?”

“Working,” Harry states gruffly, as if daring Cisco to fight him on this.

Harry looks sweaty, gaunt and tired, but his messy, fluffed up hair makes him come across more as adorable than gross to Cisco.

Cisco stomps over, feeling Harry's forehead and makes a tutting sound at the heat he finds there. “You have a fever.”

Harry bats Cisco's hand away, and stands up. He's slightly unsteady on his feet, but at least he stays standing. “I've worked with a fever before. It's not a big deal.”

“It is when you're working in my lab. If you haven't noticed, lots of dangerous toys around for you to accidentally electrocute yourself with.”

“Relax, Ramon. I won't break anything,”

“Except maybe your hip when you fall,” Cisco mutters under his breath. From the look Harry casts his way, he doesn't appreciate the comment.

Harry pauses in what he's doing, and picks up Cisco's vibe goggles. “You've done modifications.” 

“Yeah!” Cisco says, unable to suppress his excitement at Harry noticing. “I was thinking about my vibing and how I might be able to use it to get in touch with Jessie. Obviously I don't completely understand my abilities yet, but I figured there was a possibility that I could use my visions to not only see things, but interact with them. No conclusive results yet though,” Cisco finishes sheepishly.

The look Harry gives him is equal parts careful and calculating. If this was anyone else but Harry, Cisco might even think he was touched by the gesture. 

“It's worth a shot. Probably won't work though,” Harry finally says, finishing the statement with a long series of deep coughs.

“Okay, Professor Killjoy. Let's get you back to bed.”

Harry is shivering slightly when Cisco touches him, prompting Cisco to take off his sweatshirt and drape it over Harry's shoulders. Surprisingly, Harry lets him.

“Did I ever tell you how much I hate you?” Harry remarks, as they make their way down to Harry's room.

“Many many many times.”

“Doesn't mean I don't want to kiss you.” 

Cisco stops walking, his mouth hanging open in shock at the statement. He can all but feel his heart panging against his chest. Harry shrugs Cisco off, and takes the final few steps to his bed, as if he hadn't said anything unusual at all.

“Yeah. I am going to crop that up to crazy fever talk,” Cisco remarks, once he shakes himself out of it enough to speak. 

“If you must,” Harry responds easily, and then pulls the blanket over his head, and falls almost instantly asleep.

____

“Why are you carrying around a plate of toast?”

Cisco looks up from said plate of toast, which he has been eyeing warily all the way back to The Cortex to find Caitlin giving him a befuddled look. “This was for Harry. Harry's toast.”

“Harry? The same Harry you said was visiting at the Starling City S.T.A.R. Labs archives?”

“Um...no?” Cisco drops the plate of toast unceremoniously onto his desk. An hour ago, he might have felt bad for only mustering up the bare minimum of denials on Harry's behalf, and for lying to Caitlin. Now, all he can think about is what Harry said, and what it could possibly mean.

“Cisco Ramon.” Caitlin crosses her arms, giving him _that_ look. The one that says she is highly disappointed and won't back down until she has her answers.

“Okay, so, Harry might still be here. And uh, have the flu.”

“The flu?! Why didn't you tell me?” Caitlin crosses quickly over to her desk, gathering together what she once lovingly referred to as her 'get well soon, or else' kit.

“Because Harry asked me not to! He doesn't want anyone to know,” Cisco insists, voice raising just a note below pure hysteria. “You know Harry. Hates to look weak in front of anyone.”

Caitlin's smile turns sly. “But he doesn't mind you knowing?”

“Oh, trust me. He minds. I just found him that way. He's been putting up with me all but wiping his nose ever since.”

“Cisco Ramon. You're interested in Harry.”

“I am not!” Cisco protests far too weakly, he knows, for Caitlin to even remotely buy it. “What could possibly make you say that?” 

“The last time I was sick, you used those claw grabber things to pass things over to me, and all but quarantined me to my lab. You hate being around people who are sick. You hate being sick. Yet you're risking it with Harry.”

Cisco groans, covering his face with his hands. “Why did you have to remind me I am probably going to catch this death illness? I'm going to kill Harry.”

“Sure you are,” Caitlin laughs. She comes over to Cisco, draping an arm around his shoulder, and letting him rest his head against hers. He feels tired suddenly; all too aware of how little sleep he's gotten in the last two days. 

“If you tell Barry or...or anyone else, I am going to kill you instead. I know every inch of this facility and could hide your body in a place no one would ever find.”

“Understood,” Caitlin says fondly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Cisco considers what to say next. He knows what he wants to say, of course; he just doesn't know if he wants to say it to Caitlin. He lets himself struggle with what to do for a good five seconds before he breaks, words spilling out of his mouth at top speed. “So uh...Harry might have made a comment earlier. About wanting to kiss me. But it had to be the fever talking, right? He probably thought I was Tess. She used to take care of him when he was sick.”

“Harry talked to you about Tess?” Caitlin asks with some consideration. She moves away from Cisco, just enough so that she can see his face.

“Yeah, the other day. Probably another symptom. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think you should check on him. He might have permanent brain damage from all the sneezing.”

“You ever think that maybe he told you that, and that he is letting you take that role because he cares about you?”

Cisco narrows his eyes. “No. I definitely didn't think about it. Because that way lies danger.”

“I thought you said you lived for danger?”

“Yeah, but only in the James Bond type context. Not in the...” Cisco waves his hands around, trying to find the words. “....getting your heart smashed to pieces by an evil genius.”

“Harry isn't evil.”

“I know,” Cisco says letting the disappointment he feels color his words. “It'd be much easier if he was.”

Cisco is saved from having to talk more about it, by Barry whooshing in, with word of a metahuman on the loose. He breathes a sigh of relief at the distraction, and prepares himself for a long day of ignoring just how absolutely ridiculous it is to be less scared of a man who can control and create darkness than of a man who is currently in bed sneezing all over Cisco's favorite sweatshirt. 

____

Their fight with Shade (as Cisco has named him) takes Cisco out into the streets to help Barry. They don't defeat him that night, but with Shade's disappearance, they make the calculating decision to head home and regroup. Cisco admittedly tries to go back to S.T.A.R. Labs and check on Harry, but Barry insists on seeing him home, and Cisco can't quite think up an excuse that would take him back there when he's so exhausted. Instead, he sleeps, and trust that Harry will be just fine without him.

He and Caitlin arrive the next morning at the same time. Cisco had intended on marching straight down to Harry's room and yelling at him about saying things he doesn't mean, but when they enter The Cortex, they find Harry at his usual desk, looking far better than he has in days.

“Harry! Welcome back. How was Starling City?” Caitlin greets him, much to Cisco's relief.

“You know full well that I wasn't in Starling City, Snow,” Harry responds matter-of-factly, much to Cisco's annoyance.

“Hey! If you knew that Caitlin knew, why did you make me try and keep it a secret?”

Harry shrugs. “I needed something to entertain me while I was stuck in bed.”

“You're the worst,” Cisco sighs, but can't help but smile at him.

“I know,” Harry says with satisfaction, his smile mirroring Cisco's own.

“Well, since that's out in the open, I'm going to go mix up a vitamin cocktail for you. No arguments,” Caitlin says sternly.

Harry rolls his eyes, but grumbles in agreement. 

Now left alone, Cisco's nerves return in full force. He chews on his lip, moving his weight from one foot to another, as he struggles to find the right words for what he wants to say. 

“You're looking better,” he finally settles on, breathing more easily when it comes out sounding as close to normal as he can get it. 

“Fever broke.”

“Well, good. Feel up to some math? I'm stalled on a thing, and could use your brain.”

Harry nods, trailing after Cisco. If he thinks it's strange that Cisco closes the door which is almost always left open behind him, he doesn't voice it. Cisco explains the project, letting himself get lost for a while in the science, comforted by the familiarity of Harry's notes scrawled next to his, as they work their way down the whiteboard. 

They separate to different sides of the room, each to do their part, but once again, Cisco is completely unable to focus. He can't stop sneaking furtive glances at Harry, trying to read him and see if there is any sign that Harry is even slightly as unbalanced as he is by what was said the day before.

“Cisco, you're staring.”

Cisco drops what he is holding, wincing as pieces of metal and wire come apart at his feet. “Now look what you did.”

“I'm not the one who was staring,” Harry reminds him, obnoxiously.

“I'm not the one who made a comment about kissing me,” Cisco mutters.

“What was that?” Harry asks, his attention still on his work.

Well aware that Harry, whether knowingly or not, is providing Cisco an opening to keep this conversation from happening, Cisco instead pushes down his fear, and leaps in with both feet. “I said, I'm not the one who made the comment about kissing me. Which is a thing you did.”

“I did say that; didn't I?” Harry says evenly, still not looking at Cisco. 

Cisco lets out a growl of frustration, hating how vulnerable he feels in the face of Harry's absolute calmness. “Just tell me the truth. Was it just the fever talking, or did you mean it?”

“Technically yes. I likely wouldn't have said it, if I was in my right mind.” Harry stands up, and takes off his glasses, methodically folding them, and placing them in his pocket. He steps into Cisco's space, close enough that Cisco has to look up at him to see his face. “I still meant it.”

The momentary rush of disappointment at the start of Harry's statement, is followed by far more hope than Cisco has ever allowed himself to feel when it comes to Harry. He searches Harry's face, startled when the same want he feels inside is mirrored back at him. 

“Do you think then, that maybe you can do that? Now?”

Harry's hand skates down from Cisco's shoulder, coming to rest just above his hip. “You really want me to?”

“Uh, yes!” Cisco exclaims, gripping Harry's shoulders tighter than is strictly necessary. “I threw away your gross tissues for you. How much more obvious do I have to be?”

Harry laughs, honest to God laughs, which would be enough of a surprise in and of itself. Then, Harry kisses him. The hand that isn't nestled against Cisco's waist, finds it's way to Cisco's cheek, guiding him to deepen the kiss. Cisco allows himself to get lost in the slide and drag of lip against lip, savoring what he knows, even without asking, is the first of many kisses. Just as things are getting a little more heated than is probably called for given their location, Cisco has to pull away to let out a sneeze.

“I think you might have caught my illness,” Harry remarks, with amusement, handing Cisco a tissue.

Cisco steps back, and blows his nose, feeling equal parts embarrassed and utterly pissed off. “This isn't funny. I hate being sick.”

The annoyance drains from Cisco as Harry pulls him close and kisses the top of his head. 

“Don't worry. I'll take care of you.” Harry moves his mouth to whisper in Cisco's ear, his breath making Cisco shiver as it ghosts over the sensitive skin. “After all, I had a very good teacher.”

Years from now, when Cisco is asked about the most romantic things ever said to him, it's this that makes the very top of the list.


End file.
